


Young, scrappy, and hungry

by ThePinkFizz



Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Awkward Luke, Bittersweet Ending, Domestic Fluff, Fixing stuff, Fluff, Forehead Kisses, Friends to Lovers, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Luke gets on Han's nerves, Luke is a goddamn cinnamon roll ok, M/M, Outer Space, Possible smut, Prompt Fic, Sexual Tension, Shy Luke, Slowish build, Some angst, Tinkering, Virgin Luke, dorky Luke, exploring the ship, hair ruffling, let's mention that, mechanic Luke, mishaps with the Force, pisses him off more like, sensitive Han, the kid wanted power converters for Christ's sake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2019-02-01 12:15:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12704811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePinkFizz/pseuds/ThePinkFizz
Summary: Luke finds confinement aboard the Millennium Falcon to be a little too trying. He needs something to do with his hands. When he looks around, the ship is practically falling apart. Maybe he can fix it. Maybe he can keep fixing things. Maybe…maybe something will happen whilst onboard. After all, it’s only he and Han, there’s only so many places to hide.





	Young, scrappy, and hungry

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! So, I have a confession. I have NEVER seen Star Wars. Not until about a week ago where I saw my very first movie (New Hope) and fell in love. A very good friend of mine suggested this prompt since it is her head cannon and will be betaing for me. Sorry if my knowledge of the universe is limited/inaccurate. I’ll try my best. I’m ready to set sail with Han and the cinnamon roll. Comments and kudos are always appreciated! <3 PF

He sighed, leaning back in the chair, staring out at the starscape. It wasn’t that it wasn’t  _ beautiful _ , it was that he had seen it  _ a thousand times _ . He threw the wad of paper he had been tossing up and down towards the wastepaper basket in the corner, swinging his feet up onto the console. 

“Hey, hey. Get your feet off my dash.”

Han grumbled, pushing down Luke’s shoes. 

Luke sighed again, pulling one leg over the other, playing with the laces on his tunic. Then he sat forward, reaching spindly fingers out towards the auxiliary steering controls when Han batted his hand away without so much as taking his eyes off the course in front of them. 

Huffing, he sat back again, crossing his arms. 

“Then what do you  _ want  _ me to do?”

“I don’t know, anything.”

Han shrugged, steering past some debris. 

_ “Anything?” _

Luke echoed, raising a questioning brow. 

“Yeah, sure, as long as you quit bugging me.”

“Ok…”

Luke pursed his lips, turning, a smirk playing up the corners of his mouth. 

As he left the cockpit, he heard Chewie bark something out, Han dismissing it.

“It is  _ not  _ a  _ bad idea _ ,”

He air-quoted the last two words, removing his hands from the controls to hook his fingers in the air. 

“As long as it keeps him out of my hair, it’s all good.”

* * *

As he walked down the corridor, he turned his head left and right, taking in the slightly dilapidated state of the ship. He shook his head, dishevelling some blond shag. Perhaps that wasn’t the best way to phrase it. She was  _ falling apart _ . 

_ Poor thing _

Luke thought to himself. 

The only things keeping her together were determination and tape. He stopped dead in the middle of the corridor, smiling almost as if a light bulb had gone off. Han had said he could do  _ anything _ . Maybe he could fix up the Falcon. That would keep him busy, for sure. And…maybe then Han would be more appreciative of him. 

Luke shook his head at that last thought. He didn’t  _ need  _ Han to appreciate him, or even  _ like  _ him for that matter. All he needed was a place to stay for a few weeks until Leia could secure him lodging to continue his training. 

He figured he should check the engineering station in the repair bay for tools. There had been a light blinking relentlessly on the console for the auxiliary cooling system. He could put his skills to work and fix the thing before the whole Falcon overheated and blew up. 

Satisfied with his decision, Luke nodded to himself, setting off down the corridor to the access door before turning and disappearing. 

* * *

Wiping some sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand smeared some grease across the skin. Blowing out a breath, Luke set down his wrench and examined his handiwork. He leaned forward, checking the wiring. Shifting his legs, he knocked over the can of coolant that was resting by his foot and cursed under his breath, grabbing the container before any liquid could spill out over the lip. 

He had gone through the whole system, checking the switches and relays for faults, and ended up replacing the thermo-switch in the cylinder head. 

Wiping his hands off on the front of his tunic, he replaced the vent door, screwing the bolts back into place. He stood up, his right leg cramping. 

He stooped, collecting the tools he had gathered from the repair bay back into the box he had snagged and started off down the hall. The ship shifted violently, and he found himself flush to the wall behind him. A piece of panelling on the wall in front of him chose that exact moment to rip free and come hurdling his way. 

Crying out, Luke put up his arms to block his face, feeling the ship correct its position. When he opened his eyes, they widened to nearly twice their size. The panelling wasn’t on the floor, oh no, it was  _ hovering _ in front of his face. It shuddered, swaying as Luke moved his arms, confounded. He dropped them to his sides and the panel clattered to the floor, a series of metallic dings reverberating off the walls. 

His mouth hung slack some as he turned his hands palm-up, rotating his wrists, inspecting them as if he might  _ see  _ some evidence there. 

Had that happened? Had that been  _ the Force? _

Luke bit into his bottom lip. 

“Woah…”

It took him a minute to process the event that had just happened. He ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head as he collected the discarded toolbox and continued back to the repair bay. 

* * *

Entering the cockpit, he stretched his shoulders, as if they were tight, before dropping into the seat opposite Han. 

“What was that all about?”

He asked curiously. Han didn’t so much as glance in his direction. 

“There were some pretty big debris, had to dodge ‘em. No big deal.”

“No big deal?”

Luke echoed. 

“I almost got  _ flattened  _ by a loose piece of panelling.”

Han shrugged. 

“Sorry. I’ll have to tape that one back up.”

“Don’t bother. I’ll get to it.”

Luke added with a bit of bitterness, pulling out his communicator to mark the spot on the ship’s schematics that appeared as a hologram. He already had a list of  _ at least  _ two dozen things to fix ranging from blown light bulbs to faulty transceivers. 

“I thought I  _ told you _ ,”

Han griped, shoving Luke’s feet down. 

“Keep your feet  _ off  _ my dash.”

Luke furrowed his brows, giving Han a look out of the corner of his eye before looking back down at his com. 

Han was fiddling with some switches on the console, furrowing his own brows. 

“Wait, wait, wait a minute. What happened to the thingy?”

“The thingy?”

Luke didn’t look up. 

“Yeah, the thingy.”

Han emphasized, irritated. 

“What are you talking about?”

“Maybe if you pulled your head out-”

Han didn’t finish the sentence as Luke looked up, shooting daggers. He leaned forward, looking to where Han was gesturing with his index finger. He turned his head sideways to read the label. 

“Auxiliary cooling system.”

Luke read. 

He gave Han a questioning look. 

“Where’d the light go?”

Han flicked his finger at the unblinking light again. 

Luke had to suppress a sigh. 

“It’s not  _ supposed  _ to blink if it’s working right. It must have shut off because I fixed it.”

Luke went back to his holo. 

“You  _ what?” _

Han said, almost growling. 

“I said I  _ fixed it _ .”

_ “What?” _

Luke looked up this time. 

“Can you not hear me? I said-”

Han grabbed him by the front of his tunic, yanking him forward. 

“You  _ touched  _ her?”

“I  _ fixed  _ her. She’s falling apart.”

“ _ Never  _ touch her. You didn’t even ask!”

“ _ You  _ said I could do  _ anything _ .”

Luke countered, frustrated. 

“Anything _ but _ that.”

Luke huffed. 

“You can’t expect to hold her together with your good looks and tape.”

Han was about to say something when Luke hit him with that line and he relaxed his grip some. 

“You think I’m good looking?”

Colour instantly flooded into Luke’s face. 

“I-I didn’t mean that…it’s just…uh…well…”

“So, you  _ don’t  _ think I’m good looking?”

“I didn’t say that!”

Luke’s voice came out sharper than he had intended, his face reddening even deeper. 

“So, you  _ do  _ think I’m good looking?”

Luke made an unflattering noise, 

“Well…I…I…I’m not sure…”

“Not sure?”

Han echoed. Luke’s face flushed even deeper. 

“Oh, I get it,”

Han sounded dejected. 

“You’re into chicks, right?”

“What?”

Luke looked at him, his eyes swimming. 

“It’s just, I can’t help but notice, the way you look at Leia…”

“What? No!”

Luke answered, guarded. 

“So, you like guys then?”

Han dug. 

“I-”

Luke rubbed his arm, embarrassed. 

“I just…I’ve never really… _ thought  _ about it before…”

“Maybe I can…educate you then.”

Han flashed Luke a flirty smile, the look beginning to smoulder. There was a mechanical voice at the door. 

“Master Luke!”

Luke stood abruptly. 

“Threepio! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

Walking towards the droid, Luke began babbling on about some schematics on his hologram, the droid answering back. 

Han sat back in the chair in disbelief, rubbing the back of his head. 

“That usually works…”

He muttered. 

“I think I know just the thing,”

C-3PO answered to a question Han hadn’t heard. 

“That’s great, then I can start fixing this place up.”

Luke was beaming at the droid, turning to leave.

Han swivelled in his chair.

“Are you sure I can’t keep it held together with my good looks?”

Luke turned, his face the colour of an eggplant before he turned back, 3PO giving him a questioning look despite his animated features. 

“Uh…”

Luke began before closing his mouth, staring back off down the corridor. 

Han folded his hands behind his head. 

“Oh, this is gonna be fun.”

* * *

“Ow, ow, ow! Damn!”

Luke shook his hand, dropping the piece of toast onto the counter. 

Han smirked over the rim of coffee mug.

“Maybe you shouldn’t take it when it first comes out.”

“I know where I’d  _ like  _ to put it.”

Luke grumbled, looking through the small icebox by the counter. 

“What’d you say?”

Han leaned his elbows up on the table. 

_ “Nothing.” _

Luke snapped. Han smirked.

“Better have been nothing. No one would ever find your body.”

He bantered. 

“What?”

Luke looked at him, slamming the icebox shut, talking through a mouthful of toast. 

“I’m just saying,”

Han shrugged nonchalantly.

“There’s nobody but you, me, Chewie and the droids on board.”

He gestured between them. 

“Chewie,  _ of course _ , would never say a word. And those droids of yours are rather… _ unreliable _ .”

Luke scoffed, disgusted. 

“Ok, well, I’m leaving now before you come up with any more bright ideas when it comes to planning my murder.”

“Gonna go fix some stuff, huh? Must be a hoot and a half.”

“Anything to get away from you.”

Luke was almost out the door of the galley.

“Sure my  _ good looks  _ won’t hold it together?”

Han flashed a devious smile as Luke turned on his heel. 

He put his index fingers to his temples, scrunching up his nose, screwing up his face. Han laughed teasingly. 

“That’s right, kid. Use  _ the Force  _ on me.”

He wiggled his outstretched fingers. 

Luke rolled his eyes. 

“I’m  _ leaving _ .”

“Have you ever considered becoming a magician? You’d make  _ one hell  _ of an opening act. I know this guy, well, not really a  _ guy _ , but that’s not important, on Yavin, you could make a  _ killing _ .”

Luke waved his hand dismissively. 

_ “Goodbye.” _

He could still hear Han’s searing laughter as the galley doors slid closed. He pressed his fists into his forehead and let out an irritated grumble. 

_ Why  _ had he  _ ever  _ opened his stupid mouth?

Luke kept grumbling to himself as he made his way through the equipment storage area, heading to the repair bay.

* * *

The wires in Luke’s hands let off a charge, the electricity crackling in the air as he touched them together. With his tongue at the corner of his mouth, he touched the one wire to the power supply, hooking the other to its appropriate place before fiddling with a few knobs on the transceiver. 

He let out a whoop when buttons and displays lit up, life being breathed into them. A smug smile decorated his features as he turned a hundred and eighty degrees, beginning to belly crawl out of the small space. 

As he gathered his tools and shut the maintenance hatch behind him, he thought he heard a voice at the end of the crawl way. He dismissed it, continuing down on his hands and knees, giving the toolbox a good shove every now and again to push it along down the shaft. 

He had left the door open for good measure and gave the toolbox one more shove before it slid out onto the floor of the equipment storage area, almost hitting the couch in the lounge. 

Crawling forward, he almost had his head and shoulders out when a voice from above startled him. 

“Whatcha doing?”

Starting at the noise, Luke pulled his shoulder up towards his ears, his head hitting the top of the crawl way with a resounding  _ thud _ . 

“Oh f-…”

He cried, rubbing the offending injury as he turned his neck up to see Han leaning casually against the wall, smirking down at him. Luke glowered as he shuffled his knees forward, pulling himself up to standing. He wobbled slightly.  _ Must have hit his head harder than he thought _ . 

“So whatcha doing?”

Han was acting like a child now, his balled fists underneath his chin as he stared at Luke with burning intensity. 

“I-ow-”

Luke started, rubbing the injury again.

“I fixed the transceiver.  _ Damn _ …”

He hissed, staggering over to the lounge seat, dropping onto his back. He let out a long moan. 

“Ugh…”

There was a series of high-pitched bleeps as R2 came rolling into the room accompanied by C-3PO.

“Is that Master Luke I heard?”

Han rolled his eyes. Luke stuck his arm out in the direction he thought 3PO’s voice was coming from. 

“Ice. Get me ice.”

“Master, are you alright?”

3PO came closer. 

“Just,”

Luke started shortly. 

“Get me ice. Please.”

He let out another moan, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Oh  _ please _ ,”

Han rolled his eyes again, his tone unsympathetic. 

Luke picked his head up off the seat, his eyes narrowed at Han. 

“If you hadn’t  _ scared  _ me, none of this would’ve happened!”

“So, you’re saying it’s  _ my  _ fault?”

Han pointed at himself. 

“Yes!”

Luke hissed. 

“Oh, here we go!”

Han slapped his hands against his thighs. 

“Maybe if you took better care of your ship, then I wouldn’t have to go around fixing everything!”

“So now I can’t take care of her and it’s my fault you whacked that stupid head of yours!”

“Get over yourself!”

Luke wasn’t sure when he realized that Han was overtop him, but it seemed to register to the both of them at the same time. Han's hands were on either side of Luke, bracketing him in, his nose inches from the young man's. 

Luke blinked a few times, not saying anything. 

“Master, I brought the ice.”

He pulled himself out from under Han’s arms when he heard 3PO and R2 return. 

“Thanks,”

He muttered, taking the ice pack rather aggressively, sticking it to the back of his head. 

“I’m going to my room.”

Han watched him leave, feeling a sick feeling sweep over him. He sat down on the lounge seat, bringing his thumb to his mouth, chewing on the joint. 

“I will never understand that kid.”

* * *

Han struggled to get comfortable as he lay in his bunk, wiggling his hips around as he readjusted the bulk of his weight. He was half awake, and desperately wanted to fall back under the veil of sleep. That was until he heard a noise from across the room. 

He ignored it to begin with, assuming that the other was just dreaming. But as he lay there, the sounds became more prominent, louder, and strained. He thought maybe Luke was having a nightmare. He had mentioned what had happened to his aunt and uncle, and Han assumed that would be horrific for anyone to see. 

He rolled over onto his other side so that he was facing the bunk across the room. He took in Luke’s expression; eyes clenched shut, face screwed up. It looked like there was sweat beaded up on his forehead from what Han could see by the light coming from the emergency strip by the door. He was about to swing his legs out of the bed and try and rouse Luke from the dream when, suddenly, it dawned on him. 

Luke was  _ awake _ . 

Han’s eyeline followed down Luke’s body, to where his hand was wound into the bedsheets, and the other, well, he didn’t have to  _ assume  _ where it was. He knew very well it was underneath the bedsheets, perhaps under the waist of Luke’s pyjama bottoms. Han shook his head, questioning exactly  _ why  _ he was having these thoughts. Stuff like this happened all the time when in close quarters. They all had times they needed to satisfy urges. 

Han turned back to his other side, facing the wall, and tried to get back to sleep. 

He opened his eyes when he heard a guttural sound come from Luke. Turning back over, Luke’s mouth was agape, little puffs of breath escaping him. In the dim light, his face was a deep  erythraean colour. He was whimpering. He tipped his head back, a moan bubbling up from within his chest. 

Han’s brows drew in together, his lips pressed into a thin line. He readjusted his shoulder against the pillow, giving it a slap for good measure. 

Luke seemed to have been too wound-up to have noticed the sound. Han shook his head, deciding that getting some sleep was his best option at the moment and closed his eyes once more. 

It seemed like Luke was trying to keep himself quiet, only a few louder gasps and moans able to break past his lips. Han was nearly asleep when he heard the kid’s breath hitch. He must have been close. With a strained voice full of yen, he said one word, just  _ one _ . Loudly at first, then again and again, like a mantra, until it fizzled out. 

Han swallowed thickly, his eyes snapping open. He craned his neck to peer over his shoulder, seeing that Luke had disappeared into the toilet cubicle nearby. He took that opportunity to scrub his face and  _ get a grip _ . 

He pretended to be asleep when Luke crept by, sliding back into his bunk. Han lay there, awake, until the kid’s breaths evened out, becoming deep, indicating he had fallen asleep. Han knew he would be awake  _ long  _ into the night. Luke’s voice played over and over in his mind, like a record that was stuck in the same spot. He sighed. 

_ Han…ha..ha…H-Han…Han… _

* * *

Plagued the whole night by haunting whispers of Luke’s voice, Han had barely gotten any sleep. He was sitting at the table in the galley, hands cupped around a mug of coffee, eyes slipping shut, head dropping towards his chest before it snapped up again. He ran his hand over his face, blowing out a breath. 

This cycle repeated for several minutes before Luke entered, rubbing at his eyes and yawning. Han chewed the inside of his cheek to suppress a snarky comment. 

“Good morning.”

Luke offered, using the kettle of water that had been heated to make himself some tea. 

“What’s so  _ good  _ about it?”

Han groused, his face uncomfortably close to his coffee, so close in fact that his nose almost dipped into it. 

Luke raised a questioning brow before sitting down across from Han with his breakfast. Looking up, Han’s eyes widened some as he watched the kid lick a stripe up his thumb and index finger where jam had dripped down them. He spent an outlandish amount of time sucking the one digit. Han’s eyelids fluttered. 

“So, you didn’t sleep?”

Luke asked, picking up a slice of toast. He looked at Han over the crust, lips wrapped around it, bread crunching between his teeth. 

“No,”

Han responded with a shake of his head, the corner of his mouth quirking as he replied, as if the answer were obvious and it were stupid of Luke to ask. 

“Something keep you up? I’m trying to work on that shake.”

Luke took another bite of toast, tilting his head at Han. 

“Oh  _ something  _ kept me up alright.”

Han danced around the subject. 

“Nightmare?”

Luke probed, his words garbled by the mouthful of toast. 

“You could say that.”

Han dropped his head down again, stirring his coffee absently. 

“Wanna talk about it?”

“No.”

“Fine.”

They sat in silence for a while, Luke stabbing at his toast with his knife, Han staring off into the distance. 

It was suddenly that Han snapped, his tone harsh as he looked at Luke out of the corner of his eye. 

“Next time though, would you keep it down? We  _ are  _ in the same room.”

“Next time?”

Luke echoed, confused. 

Han looked away, irritated. As Luke sat there for a moment, his eyes slowly widened, and a hot flush burned across his face and neck. 

“I-I-”

He stammered.

Han looked at him. Luke looked away. 

“I didn’t know you were awake.”

Luke’s voice was quiet. 

“Well I was.”

Turning his gaze to the table top, Luke bit into his lip, pushing his plate of toast away. 

“I’m so embarrassed…”

His voice was barely audible. 

“You should be. You were making so much god-damn noise.”

Han didn’t mean for it to come out so bluntly. 

“Han-”

Luke’s voice wobbled. 

“You said that, too.”

Han took a sip of his coffee, startled when Luke shot up from the table, sprinting out of the galley as fast as his legs could carry him. 

“Luke!”

* * *

He was kneeling in front of the access grille. Setting the fasteners aside, he slipped his fingers into the slats, grunting as he pulled it free, propping it up against the wall. 

His mind was reeling as he removed his com from the back of his belt, sweeping an arc of blue light over the ion flux stabilizer, checking the condition of the internal components. 

He bit into his lip, chiding himself for being so stupid. He was  _ humiliated _ . He had never  _ meant  _ for Han to  _ hear _ . It just…came out. Never in his entire life had Luke done something like that. He felt so cheap and disgusting. 

And Han…Han had made the whole situation  _ worse _ . Thrown it back in his face. Let him know that it bothered him. 

Luke didn’t realize he was crying until he felt a tear splash across his hand. He wiped at his eyes roughly, sniffling. 

“Stop it,”

He ordered himself. 

“Stop being stupid.”

He raised his hand to the stabilizer, holding the screwdriver in his hand, hovering in front of the fastener. He hesitated, a breath that was stuck in his chest bursting free as he sobbed, his cheeks burning with shame. He hung his head down between his shoulder blades, blond hair covering his eyes. 

His shoulders shook in between sobs.  

“You’re not stupid.”

He turned slightly when he heard the voice, seeing Han standing by the bulkhead door. He sniffled, wiping at his nose and eyes. His breaths came out in gasps as he turned away again. 

Luke felt his body go rigid when a pair of arms unexpectedly circled him. He opened his eyes, vision blurred by tears. Han was on his knees in front of him, strong arms wrapped around him, one hand cradling the back of his head. 

“I’m sorry.”

Han’s voice was tight as he drew Luke in closer. 

“W-what for?”

When Luke replied, his voice was brittle, snagged by phlegm. 

“I shouldn’t have said those things to you. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

Luke held tightly to Han’s shoulders, keeping quiet. This was the first time that the other man had actually opened up about something, particularly Luke. 

“The truth is, I couldn’t sleep because I kept thinking about  _ you _ . The way you looked, your face, the way you said my name…all through the night…I just couldn’t  _ get it out of my head. _ ”

Luke swallowed thickly. 

“R-really?”

His voice faltered. 

“I-I thought I  _ disgusted  _ you.”

“No. No, not at all.”

Han stroked his hair. 

“I’m sorry,”

Luke apologized. 

“I-I’ve just…never had these… _ feelings  _ before…”

His voice wavered, betraying him. 

“It’s ok,”

Han said, his voice honeyed. 

He pulled back, smiling in that way that he did at Luke before leaning forward and pressing a kiss to the boy’s forehead. 

A little gasp escaped Luke as he did, and when Han pulled back, Luke was just staring at him, his eyes shimmering, fresh tear tracks still carved out against his skin. 

“I’m gonna let you get back to work.”

Han smiled before pushing himself up, turning to cast one more look at Luke over his shoulder before he disappeared, and the bulkhead door slid down. 

Luke sat back on his heels, awestruck. His mouth was still hanging open and he raised a hand to his forehead, fingers pressing against the spot where Han’s lips had touched him. 

“Han…”

* * *

Han was walking down the galley corridor with Chewie, engaged in conversation when they rounded the corner, coming into the lounge, and Han stopped. 

“Sweet Mother Mary.”

His eyes widened, fixed on Luke. 

Luke was standing in the middle of the lounge, shirt discarded, with both arms out, left leg bent, right leg behind him. He didn’t even notice Han. 

Hazel eyes carved over the exposed flesh in front of him. Han took in lean, toned muscles beneath skin that had seen time in the sun. Luke raised one arm over his head, bending the other behind him to touch the back of his thigh as he twisted. Han tilted his head to take in the new angle, his mouth still hanging open. He watched Luke’s chest rise and fall with each controlled breath, watched the way his blue eyes focused. When Luke twisted again, Han watched the way that his skin stretched over his ribs. It was hard to look away. 

Luke got down on all fours, hips lifted into the air, his body forming a sort of triangle. He lifted himself back up, raising his arms over his head to bring his hands together at his heart. 

Chewie let out a confused growl, elbowing a dazed Han. That was when Luke looked up, grinning sheepishly at Han and Chewie. He scratched the back of his neck, eyes scrunching up. 

“H-hey...didn’t see you there.”

“W-what are you doing?”

Han took a step forward. 

“Oh…”

Luke grinned again. 

“Just some stuff Obi-Wan taught me. It’s a form of meditation...supposed to help me get in touch with the Force.”

Luke hooked his fingers in the air when speaking the last of the sentence, knowing Han thought the Force was all a bunch of hooey.

Han chuckled. 

“You wanna try it?”

Luke smiled at him, and Han found a hard time saying no. 

That was how he ended up with Luke standing behind him, guiding his arms into position. Luke began to raise one of Han’s legs off the ground when Han protested. 

“No. No. No. Nope.  _ Hell  _ no.”

“Aww, c’mon you were just getting there!”

Luke replied chipperly. 

“No.  _ No way  _ I’m gonna be bended around like a blaster beam.”

Han griped, collecting his discarded vest from where it lay on the lounge seat. 

“Oh, it wasn’t that bad!”

Luke’s eyes were glimmering with humour, and Han found the sight beguiling. He shifted his vest back and forth between his hands. 

“I-is there anything that doesn’t involve so much... _ bending _ ?”

Luke laughed at the smirk that was on Han’s face. 

“Yeah, sure.”

He sat down on the floor, crossing his legs. 

Han slowly followed in suit. 

“Open your hands,”

Luke said, turning Han’s hands palm-up, his touches soft on Han’s wrists. 

Hazel eyes followed his movements, fixed on his face. 

Luke sat back. 

“Now, touch your thumb to your index finger, like this,”

He demonstrated. Han copied. 

“And close your eyes. Take deep breaths.”

“This is stupid.”

Came Han’s response after a few seconds. 

“It’s not stupid.”

Luke replied, a bit offended. 

Han rolled his eyes behind closed lids before he couldn’t help himself and cracked one open. 

Luke looked... _ beautiful _ sitting there like that. All muscles and long limbs. It was tempting. 

As if sensing that he was being watched, Luke opened his own eyes, seeing Han staring at him. He drew his brows together, an irritated look coming across his face. 

“Shut your eyes.”

He said, his voice mock-serious. 

“I can’t help it; you look so pretty.”

Luke’s eyes snapped open. 

“Wh-”

He went to say something when the ship shuddered violently. 

“What the hell was that?”

Han jumped to his feet, Chewie barking at him. 

“Imperial ships?”

He echoed, the wookie nodding. 

“Show me. Show me!”

Han went running off after Chewie as Luke sat there, still awed. 

Soon, though, he snapped out of his daze, getting to his feet, he grabbed his discarded tunic, yanking it over his head as he started off down the corridor. 

He was met with shrill bleeps from R2 and a worried voice. 

“Is everything alright, sir? I felt a shudder.”

“Not now, Threepio!”

Luke said huffily, shoving the droid out of the way. 

“Oh my.”

Luke raced to the cockpit, seeing Han gripping his flight controls, scowling at the starscape before him. 

There were three or four other ships; one large imperial craft, and a few smaller TIE fighters. Han was cursing like a sailor, trying to dodge phaser attacks. 

“Damn it!”

“Can I help?”

Luke asked quietly, sliding into the seat next to Han. 

“No!”

He barked. The Falcon shuddered as another blast hit her.

“Shit!”

Han barrel-rolled the ship, trying to pull ahead of the trio of fighters. 

“I can help-”

Luke tried. 

“Just stop it!”

Luke furrowed his brows, instantly sobered in that moment. He stood up, flicking several switches and pushing a few buttons on the console. 

“W-what the hell are you doing? Sit down, Skywalker!”

Han’s voice wavered, betraying him. 

Luke’s expression had hardened as he gave one more button a good push. A  _ whooshing  _ noise blanketed over the ship for a moment. Han looked at Luke inquisitively, who, in turn, glared down the bridge of his nose at the other man. 

“Your defense shield was offline.”

He dropped into the chair again. 

Han gaped at the controls, as if in disbelief that he forgot to do that. 

“T-thanks.”

Han forced the word out. 

“You’re welcome.”

Luke replied dryly. 

He crossed his arms as he watched Han steer. 

“Look out! They’re on your left!”

He pointed, jumping suddenly when he saw two TIEs come into view. Han made a hard right, diving down. The portside took another hit. 

That was when Luke launched forward, grabbing the auxiliary controls in front of him, blatantly ignoring Han’s cries of protest. 

He veered the ship to the right even more, smashing into one of the TIEs with the starboard side, knowing the armour plating could take the blow. Then he dived, flicking a few more switches, prepping the laser cannon. He pressed into the buttons at the tops of his controls, staring into the scope. 

“C’mon, c’mon.”

He waited until he got a lock-on, a red flash on the screen reading  _ target acquired  _ catching his attention and he mashed the buttons, a bright pulse of light zooming towards the fighter in front of them. Luke skillfully dodged the debris that came with the aftermath of a craft explosion. 

That only left one. 

“Right there! Right there!”

Han shouted, pointing. 

“I see it! I see it!”

Luke fired back, turning the Falcon sharply to the left, diving underneath the TIE in front of them. He flicked a switch on the control panel, the fire option blinking brightly. He pushed the flashing button next to the lock controls and watched the missile shoot from the tube at the front of the ship and make contact with the TIE, obliterating the small craft in a bang of orange smoke and debris. 

Han hooted, banging his hand down on the control panel. Luke let out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding and let go of the controls, the ship going back into autopilot. 

“That was  _ amazing  _ kid! Where’d you learn to fly like that?”

Luke shrugged. 

“And you didn’t want me to touch her.”

He scoffed some. 

Han waved his hands out. 

“None of that now. Let’s have a drink, celebrate! Those imperial bastards won’t come back if they know what’s good for ‘em!”

When he turned, though, Luke had already stood and was making his way out of the cockpit. 

“No thanks, I’m going to sleep.”

The doors shut with a discharge of air and Han found himself staring at them. 

“Luke?”

* * *

Luke was crouched in front of the auxiliary cooling system, wiping sweat off his brow. The blow to the portside from the imperial attack must have damaged it. He had long discarded his tunic, the temperature inside the Falcon  _ far  _ too hot. He could feel droplets of sweat rolling off his forehead, slipping over his shoulders, curling around the muscles of his biceps. 

He took a deep breath, examining the interior of the system. He turned his neck at an awkward angle to try and see where the source of the problem was coming from, using the torch function on his com to cast light into the dark recess. 

A coarse growl escaped Luke as he stuck his head further into the recess, setting eyes on the issue. The fan belt had snapped. All of that jostling and knocking about had caused it to break. He reached forward, extending his fingers out, trying to grab it, grunting when he realized it was  _ just  _ out of reach. 

_ “Damn.” _

He muttered, twisting around to survey his pile of tools, looking for one that might be of use. 

Seeing a pair of pliers that might just give him that extra extension, he reached for them. When they were  _ almost  _ in his hand, the Falcon took a bit of a veer to the right, the pliers sliding across the floor towards the starboard side. 

Luke stared at them as they slid, his lips pressed into a thin line. 

“Are you  _ serious?” _

It was as  _ simple  _ as getting up and picking up the pliers, but he was so  _ irritated  _ that he instead stuck his hand out in the direction of the pliers, fingers trembling as he attempted to pull them into his hand. He concentrated, eyes narrowed, brows overtops his eyes, lower lip quivering slightly before he bared his teeth. 

His fingers were straining as he reached for them, pushing himself up onto his knees. Clasping his left hand around his right wrist, as if hoping that would channel more strength through him, he dug deep. Growling like an animal, he felt something flickering in fingertips. 

The pliers began to twitch, squeaking against the floor. Luke’s upper lip curdled in a snarl. That was when the pliers flew across the room into his outstretched hand, and he stared for a moment, thunder-struck, before hollering, falling on his back, a huge smirk on his face. He beat his shoes down on the floor, hooting. 

“Did-did that just... _ fly  _ into your hand?”

The voice startled him and Luke sat up, seeing Han staring down at him, his eyes wide. 

“It was...over there...and now it’s there…”

He pointed as he spoke, his eyes landing back on Luke. 

“Uh…”

Luke chuckled, running his hand through his hair. 

Han shook his head, holding his hands out in front of him. 

“N-never mind. I don’t wanna know.”

Luke offered another sheepish smile, looking back up to take in Han’s current state of undress more closely. His shirt was hanging open, tails untucked, exposing planes of lean, toned muscle. He found himself unconsciously wetting his lips as he followed the line of fine hair down Han’s chest, over his stomach before it disappeared into his trousers. He tore his eyes away. 

“So why’s it so  _ goddamn  _ hot? I thought you fixed this already?”

“I-I did,”

Luke stammered, his cheeks filling with colour. 

“We took a bit of damage in that imperial attack. It looks like the fan belt snapped.”

Han was scowling, looking as if he was ready to throw his fist into the air and curse the Empire. 

“B-but it’s an easy fix. I can have a new belt in there in maybe fifteen minutes.”

Han put his hands on his waist, the new position opening up his shirt more, offering Luke a better view of Han’s muscles. His eyes settled on the pair of jutting hipbones. Running a hand over the back of his neck, Han started,

“I think there might be a spare one in the repair bay. If not, we’re  _ screwed _ . It’ll be a few days before we’re anywhere  _ close  _ to a parts dealer.”

Luke stifled a groan. This heat was  _ insufferable _ . Worse than that though, he didn’t know how he would manage  _ a few day,  _ let alone  _ a few hours _ of looking at Han’s striking physique. 

“I’ll go check.”

* * *

“No. No. No. No.  _ No!” _

Luke was throwing carburetors, condensers, and converters out of his ways as he searched frantically for a fan belt. 

“There has to be  _ at least  _ one!”

He sighed, frustrated, as he stood in front of the workbench, hands splayed across the top, chest heaving as sweat slid down between his pectorals. 

“Can’t find one, huh?”

Luke turned to see Han leaning against the door frame, his hair starting to stick to his forehead. 

“No,”

Luke groused. 

“Well, we’ll be near Nar Shaddaa in two to three days, we can swing in and pick up some spares.”

Luke dropped the condenser unit he had been holding, and it thudded to the ground, rolling around his feet, a metallic tinkling in the air. 

“Is that a problem?”

Han had gotten close. A little  _ too  _ close. 

“N-no.”

Luke stammered, avoiding eye contact. 

“You look all worked up,”

Han started, his voice smokey, brushing away Luke’s bangs which had begun to adhere to his skin. 

“I-I am not!”

Luke tried to protest. 

Han chuckled, his laugh gravelly, sitting deep in his throat. 

“Luke…”

He looked up, his cerulean eyes twinkling. Without any notice, Han took Luke’s chin in his hand, dipping his neck, claiming the boy’s mouth. He gave Luke a few kisses, the heat and moisture from his mouth causing Luke to part his lips. Han drew Luke’s lower lip into his mouth, a bit of animosity in his actions. 

Luke moaned slightly. Unsure of what to do with his hands, he put one around Han’s neck. Without hesitating, Han picked Luke up, hands gripping behind his thighs, and lifted the boy onto the workbench, shoving spare parts and blueprints to the ground with one sweep of his hand. He pushed between Luke’s knees, kissing him harder and faster, in short bursts, whist his hands roamed over sweat-slickened skin, before finally resting between Luke’s shoulder blades. 

_ “Han…” _

Luke breathed, his voice a bit strangulated. That was when Han’s hips stuttered forward, the workbench shuddering. Completely new to the situation at hand, Luke decided to try and copy Han. He threaded his fingers through dark locks, the sensation foreign, the locks smooth against his calloused fingers. With Han’s breath on his throat, he tilted his neck back, offering up the sensitive flesh. His body shuddered when he felt Han nip and suck at the skin there. One leg wound around Han’s back, his heel pressing into the small of the other man’s back. Han’s hand came to rest on the nape of Luke’s neck, teased by blond strands, applying a bit of pressure with his thumb and two fingers. 

Luke felt a stirring sensation in his gut, an odd sort of feeling. It began to burn as he felt like his insides were being turned out. His leg tightened around Han’s back. 

A series of low barks at the door had Luke uncoupling himself from Han, trying to push the other man away as an embarrassed flush took over his face. Han looked over his shoulder, irritated, to see Chewie standing there. The wookie let out a long growl. Han furrowed his brows. 

“You don’t know jack!”

He shot back, pulling his hand off Luke’s neck. Chewie reciprocated with another howl. 

“Y-you shut your face!”

Han shouted, extending a menacing finger toward the wookie. Luke took that opportunity to slide down off the workbench, hoping to slink away. A series of high-pitched beeps told him that his escape was going to be sabotaged. 

“Master Luke! We were wondering where you had gotten to.”

The two droids came into view. Luke ran a shaky hand through his hair, a bit winded. 

“Oh h-hey, guys.”

“Sir, are you alright?”

“Y-yeah, fine. Why do you ask?”

Luke had crouched, beginning to pick up the pieces of paper and parts and bric a brac that had been displaced in the heat of the moment. 

“You just look flustered is all.”

“I’m fine.”

Luke said again, nodding his head, as if affirming the statement with himself. 

“I see,”

Threepio responded, seeming skeptical. 

Luke grassed a look over his shoulder, seeing Han still yelling fruitlessly with Chewie, his face taking on a purplish-colour. He wished he could understand  Shyriiwook. It seemed to be a pretty heated argument. 

“Laugh it up, fuzzball!”

Han hollered, standing on his toes, as if trying to intimidate Chewie. 

Luke could still feel his face burning, remembering the feel of Han’s kisses against his mouth, the feel of his hands in his hair. Luke shook his head, trying to dislodge the memory. 

Two to three days was  _ not  _ gonna go by fast enough. 

* * *

Luke let out a distressed moan, falling back onto his bed, feet still dragging on the floor. He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, sighing. 

They were still  _ two  _ days out from Nar Shaddaa, and Luke didn't think that he’d make it. It had been 32 degrees for three days straight now, and it was  _ intolerable.  _ The temperature rivaled that of days on Tatooine. 

Luke was swinging the hilt of his lightsaber around, spacing out. 

“Hey, kid.”

The sound of Han’s voice startled him, and Luke clocked himself just over the right eye with the hilt. 

“Ah!  _ Ouch! _ ”

Han looked concerned for a split second. 

“You ok?”

The concern melted into hysterical chuckles as Han stood there, sniggering at Luke. 

“It’s not funny.”

“It’s kinda funny.”

Luke glared at Han, unsheathing the lightsaber, the side of his face illuminated by blue light. 

“Still think it’s funny?”

Luke raised a challenging brow. Han seemed to consider the weapon in the kid’s hand before bursting out in laughter again. 

“It’s still funny!”

Luke rolled his eyes, powering down the saber, throwing the hilt onto his bed before storming past Han. 

“Haha, so funny.”

He deadpanned moodily, stomping down the corridor towards the galley. Han entered to see Luke gulping down a blue-tinged liquid, leaning against the counter. 

“I would  _ kill  _ to be on Hoth right now.”

He sighed, setting the now empty glass on the counter. He transitioned to the table, setting his head down on the tabletop. 

“Where’s Chewie?”

He muttered. 

“Somewhere in the storage hold with Goldenrod. Don’t ask me what they’re doing.”

Han pulled out a chair, sitting down. He pushed aside some of Luke’s bangs. 

“Mhmm, don’t touch me.”

He groaned, picking his head up. 

“That looks nasty.”

Han noted, gently rubbing his thumb across the contusion where the kid had smacked himself. 

_ “Ouch…” _

Luke carped. 

“Hmm…”

Han leaned forward, pressing his lips to the abrasion, pulling back to look at Luke. 

“Feel better?”

Luke gave him a steely look, his brows drawn together. 

“Fine, fine.”

Han went to the icebox, grabbing a handful of ice cubes, wrapping them in a towel before sitting down to press the ice against the purpled mark. 

“Haa…”

Luke’s moan was rather blissful as he relaxed into the cool sensation. 

“That’s probably going to bruise,”

was Han’s response, still moving the ice around some, trying to get it to fit right against the awkward shape of Luke’s browbone. With a slight grit to his teeth, Luke fired back with,

“Well, maybe you should clear your throat or something before entering a room. That’s  _ twice  _ now. Is this gonna become a regular thing for you? Or do you just take pleasure in seeing me suffer?”

There was mock-hurt in Han’s voice as he replied, but his tone was as sarcastic as ever. 

“Oh, not  _ this  _ again.”

There was a drawn-out silence as neither of them spoke. 

“So, what were you doing anyway?”

Luke shrugged, taking the ice from Han to hold it himself. 

“I dunno, nothing really. I was bored. What do you want me to do?”

“I didn’t say you had to do anything.”

“Good.”

“Fine.”

Another drawn-out silence consumed the small space of the galley, save for the soothing, somewhat rhythmic thrum of the engines. They both seemed choleric in that instant; the heat was going to both of their heads, being cooped up in it day in and day out was tolling. 

That was when Luke stood, throwing the towel of ice into the basin, stretching out his back. 

“Ok, well, this has been fun.”

His voice was a bit sarcastic. Han quirked an irritated brow. 

“But thanks, again, for  _ this _ .”

Luke gestured vaguely to the injury. 

“Yeah, sure.”

Han was looking right at him, but seemed worlds away. His eyes were glazed over and had lost that devil-may-care glimmer that Luke had grown accustomed to. He bit into the inside of his cheek, as if considering what to say next before he left the issue alone and turned, walking out of the galley, with Han left staring at a closed door. 

* * *

It had been a long time, probably  _ hours,  _ since Han had last seen Luke. He stood from where he had been slouched in a chair of the cockpit, feet on the console, staring out into space. His eyes diverted to the seat next to him, as if half expecting to see the kid sitting there, fiddling with his com or something. 

Sticking his head out the door, he saw nothing but a long, empty corridor. He found himself irritated. There were only  _ so many  _ places that he could be. 

He stuck his hands into his pockets and began walking down the corridor. His footsteps echoed, the ship eerily quiet. It unnerved him some, feeling disconnected and alone. And he found himself wondering why, all of a sudden, that being  _ alone  _ bothered him. 

Checking several places including the galley, repair bay, and crew quarters, Han found no luck. He scratched the back of his neck, wondering where in the  _ hell  _ the kid could be. 

He didn’t know if it was luck or just coincidence that when he walked by the starboard cargo store, the door opened up, and, upon gazing inside, Han saw him. There Luke was, sprawled out on his back, hands behind his head, just gazing out into the vast nothingness. There was a trickling of blue light that Han assumed was from the communicator the kid always carried, and he looked up, following the light. 

Projected on the ceiling of the hold, in a vast array of dimensional blue light, were hundreds of thousands of stars and planets. By the glow of the light, Han could see a small smile twisting up the edges of Luke’s lips. 

“So this is where you ran off to?”

His voice seemed to startle Luke slightly less this time, the boy simply rolling over onto his elbow to look back at Han, who was silhouetted by the corridor lighting. Stepping inside the hold, the door shut and pressurized, sealing them both in complete darkness, save for the blue glow. 

“It’s the coldest place I could find,”

Luke mused, his eyes now fixed back on the artificial satellites.

Han let out a low whistle of appreciation. 

“Damn. That’s pretty.”

He pulled up some floor next to Luke, settling down onto his back. Luke turned, and Han could see something  _ odd  _ glimmering in those eyes of his. 

WIthout warning, Luke rolled over so that he was now sitting in Han’s lap, straddling the other man’s body. Han was surprised, pushing himself up onto his elbows. 

“Kid, what are you doing?”

In the blue light, Han watched Luke lick his lips. He felt a warm, calloused palm tracing along his cheekbone. Luke looked inquisitive. 

“See something you like?”

Han’s tone was a bit pompous, but Luke didn’t seem to take it as a joke. He had cocked his head, blond hair sweeping over towards his right shoulder. 

“Yeah,”

He started quietly. 

“I do.”

Then he was leaning forward, fitting his lips against Han’s in a gentle kiss. A surprised noise escaped Han, but he had no trouble reciprocating. One arm wrapped around Luke’s back, drawing him closer, the kiss becoming messier as he licked his way into the kid’s mouth. 

Luke's weight was an ever-present force, pushing Han down into the cool cement of the floor. Hands carded through brunet hair, pliant lips warm and spit-slicked pressed into another willing pair. 

Luke's head was spinning, dizzied by Han’s kisses. Han rolled them both over so that Luke was underneath him. Only when the need for air became too great did Luke pull away, his breaths escaping him in long, winded pulls of air. Back to his throat went Han’s lips, and Luke obliged by tipping his head back. His fingers tightened on the ball of Han’s shoulder when he felt the familiar stirring sensation in the pit of his gut he had felt the other day. 

“Han…”

Luke's voice was tight and strained as he spoke, his fingers digging in even tighter. His hips stuttered upwards as Han’s knee pressed between his legs. A knowing smirk curved up the edges of Han’s lips as he pulled back, gazing down into Luke's eyes. Even in the dim glow from the light of the communicator, Han could see that the kid's pupils were blown wide. Every inch of Luke looked to be coloured by a lusty flush. 

“What do you need?”

Came Han’s voice, low and graveled with sensuality. 

“I-I"

Luke panted, sitting up some. He knew what he wanted. How was he to say it, though?

His words came out awkwardly, as one would expect from an inexperienced person. His hand gripped the fabric of his trousers by his right hip. 

“Hurts,”

He groused, his eyes cast down. An embarrassed heat filled his face. 

Han’s eyes traveled down, an even wider, more wicked smirk adorning his face when he noticed the strain in Luke's trousers, knowing that he had caused that. 

“Want me to make it feel better?”

Han looked up, scouring Luke's face for a reply, hoping he would consent. 

After what seemed like the  _ longest  _ few minutes of Han’s life, Luke was nodding, biting into his lower lip. And Han nearly  _ growled _ . The thought that this kid was untouched and untainted sent liquid fire through his veins. 

He started slowly, running his fingers down Luke’s sides, kissing first his mouth, then along his jawline down his neck, before travelling lower. Luke had begun to pull his tunic up over his head, feeling  _ far  _ too hot all at one. Han helped pull it off the rest of the way, casting the article of clothing to the side. Han applied a fair amount of pressure to Luke’s sides as he worked his way down the kid’s body. His lips were hot and wet, slipping down the column of Luke’s throat, dashing a wet line with his tongue down between defined pectorals and then over the ridges of abdominal muscles. 

“And you’re  _ sure  _ about this?”

Han asked, looking up for a minute to lock eyes with Luke. He was met with a vigorous nod, Luke’s breaths short and spastic, voice cracking as he replied with a breathy  _ “yes.” _

Needing no further affirmation, Han kissed down Luke’s stomach, fingers resting at protruding hipbones, his lips smiling against the warm flesh. 

To start off slowly, Han dragged his lips down over the left hipbone, travelling laterally across Luke’s waist. He pressed soft kisses against the hard line in Luke’s trousers, occasionally licking a stripe with his tongue. Luke cried out, his neck arched back as a guttural moan left his lips. Han was grinning as he repeated the action, thriving as he listened to Luke pant and moan, writhing underneath him. 

Han’s teasing was cut short when Luke’s hand grabbed onto his arm, his eyes deadly serious. 

“Han…”

his voice was rough. 

“I...can’t...take...much more…”

Nearly every word was punctuated by a sharp intake of breath, as if the kid had been running. 

“Ok, ok. Fun’s over.”

Han removed his mouth, hooking his thumbs over the waist of Luke’s trousers and underclothes. In one swift tug, he had stripped back the articles of clothing, Luke shivering at the sudden rush of cool air against his heated skin. Han unconsciously ran his tongue over his upper lip at the sight laid out before him. Luke’s skin had a healthy flush, his cheeks rouged, eyes glassy with lust. His chest was heaving with lust-riddled breaths and, as hazel eyes travelled lower, settled on Luke’s hard, dripping erection curling up towards his stomach. 

Han blew a teasing breath across the tip as he leaned closer, Luke slapping one hand on the ground, the sound reverberating through the hold. He watched Luke take a deep breath as he adjusted himself onto his elbows, his lips poised over the tip of Luke’s cock. He placed a soft kiss to the head, savouring the feel of the velvety skin. Luke whimpered, his body jerking sharply. Han rubbed circles to the inside of Luke’s thigh with the pad of his thumb. 

“Relax,”

he whispered, his voice deep and husky. 

The audible sound of Luke’s gulp struck a nerve with Han who pushed himself up. 

“Hey, if you don’t want me to, I don’t-”

Luke grabbed onto the front of Han’s shirt, his voice practically a growl. 

_ “Do. It.” _

Han raised a surprised brow before a pleased smirk crossed his face. He dropped back onto his elbows, wrapping his lips around the head of Luke’s cock before sliding nearly the entire shaft into his throat. Luke moaned loudly, his voice sharp. Han repeated the action, watching the way Luke balled his hands into fists, his eyes squeezed shut. Wanting to experiment, Han rolled his tongue around the tip, completing a few circles around the corona. He felt Luke shudder, smirking around the length in his mouth. He took the entire length back before sliding back up, just the tip caught between his lips. He used his tongue again to prod the slit, feeling Luke shudder, the insides of his thighs trembling. Luke’s fingers carded through Han’s hair, pulling sharply the next time Han took back his whole length. 

Han listened to the tortured breaths escaping the kid, each one short, and close together. He felt the spasms in the inseam of Luke’s thigh, where his hand rested. 

Luke felt an intense burning in the pit of his gut, every muscle in his body clenching. He let go of Han’s hair, his arms splayed out at his sides. 

“Han...Han!”

His voice was loud, echoing in the desolate hanger, cracking as he reached his peak. It was like a supernova exploding behind his eyes as he felt all his muscles release. 

Neither of them seemed to notice that the bulkhead door had opened until a stark, intense light pierced into the darkness of the hold. They both heard mechanical voices. 

“Oh, listen, R2, he’s dying! Master Luke!”

Luke craned his neck back, seeing Threepio and R2 about to enter the hold when his hand flew out over his head, fingers trembling, his voice loud. 

“Get out!”

The door slammed shut rather pointedly. Han was sitting back onto his knees, wiping at his mouth as he looked at Luke through hooded eyelids. 

“Man kid,”

Han started, his voice thick and gravelly, still recovering from the previous assault. 

“I haven't had  _ fun  _ like that in a long time.”

He pulled at his slacks, looking slightly uncomfortable. 

“Haven’t come in my pants since I was sixteen.”

Luke had his hands behind his head, forearms covering his eyes. His chest was still heaving. Han laid next to him, gently pulling an arm away. 

“Hey. You ok?”

Luke nodded. 

“Was it good for you?”

Luke turned his head towards Han, his blue eyes still slightly glazed over. 

“Yeah,”

he replied, voice breathy. 

“Yeah, it was good.”

Han helped pull Luke to his feet, the other adjusting his rumpled trousers. 

“Why don’t we hit the head, get cleaned up?”

“Yeah, ok.”

Luke's voice was quiet. 

They shuffled over to the bulkhead door, the sound of it pressurizing filling the space. Luke’s face turned seven shades of red as the door opened, Threepio and R2 standing outside. Threepio looked as if he was about to ask a question, his voice cut off sharply when Luke grabbed Han’s hand and pulled him down the corridor in the opposite direction. 

* * *

Luke’s head was tipped back as he turned in a circle, taking in as much of the cityscape as he could. Nar Shaddaa was  _ gorgeous _ . With a layer of smog hanging over the city, all of the colourful neons and searchlights were reflected back down in a kaleidoscopic manner. 

His mouth was hanging open slightly as he stared in awe at the plethora of shops and lights and colours and it felt like all his senses were being assaulted all at once. 

It wasn't until Han was calling his name, gesturing over his shoulder, that Luke snapped out of it and broke into a jog to catch up. 

“Don’t stand around daydreaming.”

Han started gruffly. 

“You could get lost.”

“I-”

Luke was about to protest to the statement when he got a better idea and reached over, taking Han’s hand. He was given a questioning look from the older man before he saw a smile twitch at the corner of Han’s mouth. 

“Now I won’t get lost.”

Han rolled his eyes at the cheesy sentiment, but gave Luke’s hand a squeeze either way. 

“Oh, here it is!”

Han pointed up at a grimy little sign strung haphazardly over an awning that was covered in a slimy substance with several holes in it. 

“The  _ Crack _ ?”

Luke read the sign, rather surprised that it was in Galactic Basic, his voice a little put out as he read the phrase, giving Han a look. 

“I know it sounds like a hovel, but it is the best place for parts, trust me.”

Luke raised a skeptical brow, but followed Han in anyways. They had no more than stepped over the threshold before Han was being bombarded by voices. He and Chewie were dragged over to the dingy counter, pulled into a conversation by a rather scruffy-looking Chadra-Fan. 

Han was laughing, and had started speaking a language that Luke couldn’t understand. 

Luke sighed some, a little disappointed that he and Han couldn’t scrounge for parts together. So he began wandering around the shop by himself, his fingers running over the containers of parts. His fingers danced over glass bulbs, the sound they emitted like chimes blowing in a breeze. It brought a pleased smile to his face. He meandered through a threshold into another part of the shop, getting lost in a maze of shelves and bins overflowing with every part imaginable. It was like  _ heaven.  _

He had wandered for a while before startling Han by dumping an armful of parts on the counter. 

“What's all this?”

Han started, sorting through the stuff. There were bulbs for the C-beam lamps, sheet metal to help fix holes in the mandibles, circuit boards for the Torplex computer, an assortment of wires and cables, and several other things that Han had never seen before. He picked something up, holding the yellow box in his hand. 

“A power converter? Really?”

Luke snatched it away, his face flushing. 

“We came for a fan b-”

Luke held up the black kevlar. 

“Never mind.”

Han shook his head, but he was grinning. He leaned an elbow onto the counter. 

“So how much for all this shit, Remy?”

Luke gaped. 

“It’s not shi-”

Han held up his hand, conversing with the Chadra-Fan. They seemed to be arguing for a few moments before the Chadra-Fan gave a grunt of sorts, and took the payment Han was holding out. It then swiped all the parts off the counter and dumped them into a box that was printed with winding, unreadable script. Han gave the shopkeep a wink before handing the box to Luke, guiding him out the door. 

“So, how much did that just cost you?”

Luke hefted the box in his arms. Han put his hand between Luke’s shoulder blades, as if protective. 

“Let’s just say you owe me, ok?”

* * *

The fan belt had long since been fixed and Han and Luke were in the cockpit when they got the news. It came as a holo-call, Leia’s image appearing in flickering blue light. She was exclaiming rather enthusiastically that she had secured a place for Luke to stay on Dagobah, where he could continue training under a Jedi Master. 

Luke should have been just as elated, but his voice was rather dead and his eyes didn't shine as he received the news. Leia said she would be there when Luke arrived to get him settled and he had ended the call with a few meaningless words, leaning back in his chair, sighing. 

“What's wrong? I thought you were all excited about becoming a Jedi?”

Han shot him a worried look. Luke was fiddling with the laces on his tunic, something Han noticed he only did when he was bored or thinking. 

“I-I am...or I was, at least…”

His voice trailed off, his eyes glazing over. 

“Is there something you're not telling me?”

Luke sighed, his face colouring with slight embarrassment. 

“I'm just gonna miss you is all.”

He professed. Han sputtered with laughter. That was when Luke's face flushed with rage and he shot forward in the flight seat, banging his fist down on the console. 

“I was being serious!”

He yelled. Han took his hands off the flight controls, turning to face him. 

“I know,”

He started, voice sullied. He stretched out a hand, running it over Luke's shoulder.

“I know you were. I didn't mean to make it sound like you weren't.”

He himself sighed. He scrubbed a hand over his face, and when he looked back at Luke, he looked tired. 

“I'm not very good at these sort of things.”

He admitted. 

“The truth is…”

There was a long pause. 

“I'll miss you too, kid.”

Those words had shook Luke to his core. He was in a fog after that, head haunted by Han’s words. Never had the other man been so honest. So vulnerable. Not a word had been spoken afterwards, and Han had gone back to the controls. 

Luke couldn't sleep. He wandered the halls at night. Han had thought he was sleepwalking at first, and then realized that Luke was genuinely troubled. He had held the kid in his arms one night just trying to get him to settle whist Luke sobbed, 

“I don't wanna go. I don't wanna leave you.” 

It had tugged at Han’s heartstrings, and he had considered calling Leia up, telling her he wouldn't let Luke go. But they both knew the princess wouldn't have Luke devoting his life to being a flight mechanic, fixing up old junkers. And, deep down, he knew he didn't want that for Luke either. 

The days were filled with long, drawn-out silences, unspoken words hanging in the air. Words neither of them knew how to say. 

Luke was trying to busy himself by fixing as many things as possible before he had to leave. He was inserting new circuit boards into the flight computer, so dazed and distracted that he caught a shock off one of the wires.

“Damn!”

He grumbled, sucking his thumb into his mouth, trying to relieve the burning sensation. The action only reminded him of the other day in the cargo hold, and he felt his face flush with embarrassment. And then it dawned on him; there would be no more days like that with Han. Ever. 

And Luke cried. 

About five days after Leia’s holo-call, they had entered Dagobah’s atmosphere. They would be touching down soon. 

A sense of sickness hung over Luke, clenching in his belly. He was folding his clothes, shoving his belongings into two bags. A knock at the door startled him, and he turned. 

Han was leaning against the door jamb, an unreadable look on his face. 

“Need any help?”

“No. I’ve got it.”

He hefted the knapsack and duffle over his shoulders, exiting the room.

Han followed close, like a shadow. Neither of them spoke a word. 

Luke was pulled into a hug by Chewie, who growled, pained. He was met with chirping bleeps from R2. 

He pulled back, eyes glossy as he looked at Han. His lower lip wobbled. 

“Take care of the droids, ok? Leia will kill me if something happens.”

“R2’s ok, but I'm not making any promises with Goldenrod here.”

“I am offended.”

Threepio groused. Luke cleared his throat awkwardly. He extended his hand to Han. 

“Well, uh, thanks for having me.”

“Glad to have you.”

Han clasped his hand, holding on for as long as he could. His smile melted away when Luke pulled away. 

“Here I go.”

Luke stated with uncertainty, picking his bags back up. He turned towards the docking ramp. He could see Leia in the distance, waiving, the hem of her dress blowing in a non-existent wind. Luke took a step forward. 

“Luke.”

He stopped, turning. Han was smiling.

“It's only a few months. I'll wait for you.”

Luke dropped his bags on the ramp and ran back the other way, colliding with Han. 

He wrapped his arms around the other man tightly, burying his head against Han’s chest. When he spoke, his voice was tight and thick, as if he was going to cry. 

“I love you.”

He sobbed, tears wetting the front of Han’s shirt. A smile curled the corner of Han’s mouth as he smoothed a hand over Luke's hair, his own voice tight when he replied.

“I know.”

* * *

END 

  
  
  
  
  
  



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